Okay, you do have to pinch yourself or wonder whether you havewoken up in the TV series Life on Mars, in which the hero woke upto find himself transported back to the Seventies. In the last twoweeks, we've had Black Sabbath with a new album at number one inthe charts, with the main challenger for the top spot Rod Stewart.Last weekend, a full house at the O2 Arena watched a sprightly 78year-old Leonard Cohen perform. This was preceded a few daysearlier by rave reviews for The Who and Bruce Springsteen. Andtonight, The Rolling Stones top the bill at Glastonbury.

It's easy to poke fun, and no doubt many will. It's a safe bet
that somewhere over the next 48 hours we will read the combined
ages of the Rolling Stones. The last time I met Mick Jagger he
sighed wearily to me that every time the band plays there's a bunch
of journalists who "like to show they can do arithmetic."

Yes, it's easy to poke fun, but it's too glib. Rather we should
take this quite extraordinary moment of so many old rockers being
in demand at the same time to glory in the longevity of highly
accomplished, energetic and charismatic performers, but also to
redefine rock, pop and the business of performance.

There's never been a problem with septuagenarians playing jazz
or the blues. Indeed, a weathered look gives kudos in both art
forms. Rock and pop, though, since the first rock 'n' roll
explosion in the Fifties, and even more so with the pop explosion
in the Sixties, have been the province of youth, and the music has
gone hand in hand with a posturing sexuality. Despite Mick's
28-inch waist and remarkable physical fitness, it is clearly
faintly absurd to pretend to any of that when pushing 70. Yet, as
the excitement and response in the audience will show tonight,
there is still remarkable energy in the performance and the music,
and a hint of subversiveness in the banter.

Those who have a problem in totally committing to the idea of
pensioner pop are those who find it hard to lose sight of that
original driving force of rock'n'roll, the rebellion and sexual
assertiveness of youth. The packed crowds for the likes of the
Stones, Springsteen, The Who, McCartney, Neil Young, Cohen and
Dylan mean the time is ripe to find not just a new attitude towards
pop and rock, but a new vocabulary. The word rock, with too many
youthful connotations, sits uneasily with septuagenarians, even if
the musicians themselves have no shortage of energy. We need new
words – maybe the simplest word of them all, music, will suffice –
and while we do still label it pop or rock, we need to see it as
multi-generational and with no age barriers. It isn't easy to throw
off those Fifties and Sixties associations with youth, sex and
rebellion. But the performers have outlasted the concept.

Opera in English? Sorry, I'll need that in writing

Watching Deborah Warner's marvellously haunting production of
Benjamin Britten's Death in Venice at the English National Opera,
it was evident that there were no surtitles. Although ENO's
productions are all sung in English, the company has used surtitles
for some years now. It appears that Ms Warner, specifically
requested that there be none for her production. Nearby, at the
Royal Opera House, another Benjamin Britten opera, Gloriana, is
currently playing. That does have surtitles. As it happens, at
Death in Venice I could hear every word that was sung and there
really wasn't a need for surtitles. Nevertheless, this is getting
mighty confusing. The ENO sings in English yet needs to put the
words up on a screen. The same composer is given surtitles for one
opera but not for another just down the road. A surtitle policy,
presumably carefully considered and deemed necessary for audiences,
is changed at the request of one director. Are surtitles for operas
in English necessary or not? I wish they'd make up their minds.

Frankly filthy language at the Globe this summer

Those familiar warnings about how viewers might find some scenes
disturbing are usually phrased in the most coy and delicate
language. So, I found it rather refreshing to look at the brochure
for this season at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. One of its shows
later in the summer will be a new play called The Lightning Child
by Che Walker. This is described as a modern take on Euripides' The
Bacchae, combining crossdressing, drug abuse, internet porn and
classical myth. The warning to spectators printed in the brochure
dispenses with all the coy stuff. It states simply and
straightforwardly: "Production contains filthy language." Can't say
fairer than that.